


The Dark is Whispering in my Ear

by Proserpine_Fall



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mineta Minoru Doesn't Exist, Depressed Midoriya Izuku, Eating Disorders, Gen, M/M, Midoriya Izuku Has a Ghoul Quirk, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proserpine_Fall/pseuds/Proserpine_Fall
Summary: When Izuku is four, he starts changing. It's subtle at first, but food slowly becomes less appetizing. What was once his favorite food is now comparable to sewage. When he turns ten, he finds out that he is no longer able to eat human food. He struggles, trying to present a normal facade to his mother by eating, then throwing up afterwards. Due to an incident, he is found half dead by Kanekei, who teaches him what to do with his quirk. Considering that Ghoul and Human biology are completely different, Izuku has to be extremely careful. What counts as a healthy Ghoul would be considered anorexic for a Human. Fastforward to U.A. (where he did not get OFA...yet), post USJ, and Class 1-A is getting extremely worried.
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Midoriya Izuku & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic
Comments: 24
Kudos: 202





	1. The Finding

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear readers. This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, so I guess I should let you know a few things. First thing is that, despite my wishes, I may never finish anything, or post more than what I’ve already got going. I have depression, and I’m not telling you this to garner pity or attention – it’s just a fact. Sometimes, I can barely force myself out of bed even though I have a whole day planned out and I was super excited for it the day prior. On those days, I can’t muster enough energy to do anything but what I absolutely have to do, which usually consists of my getting out of bed and attempting to complete my homework. Also. This fanfics are going to be a form of self-therapy, because along with my depression I struggle with suicide idealization, self-harm, internalized homophobia, and an eating disorder (according to my friend); personally, I don’t consider my apathy towards food during a depressive episode an eating disorder. Most of the time, I either A. Just don’t care enough to go eat. B. I want to eat, but I can’t find the energy to get up. Or C. Food tastes like dirt and feels like cardboard, so why bother? Again, this is not a grab for attention; I just want readers to know that most any fics I write will include those aspects. On a similar note, I adore constructive criticism. I love it when people kindly point out grammatical mistakes, or how I can better my writing. However, if you come in, guns blazing, telling me that my story is horrible, I shouldn’t ever write, my topic that I chose in order to help myself is a bad one, a clichéd one, or one that I should be ashamed of….my already low self-esteem will hit pretty hard. While I would love to say that I would flame you back, and delete your comment, truth is that I would read your comment and commit it to memory, and then repeat it over and over and over until I destroy my confidence in writing. So…I guess I’m just asking you to be kind. I think it should be a universal rule to always support fellow writers and not bring them down with pointless cruelty, but the world isn’t like that, especially now that we have the internet to hide behind. Now, this first chapter is only going to be a plot line, so if any of you have ideas or areas I should switch around, let me know. Once I officially start on Winter Break, most of it will be concrete and only minor details changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the first chapter! I know a lot of you don’t read author’s notes, but I think I should probably write one anyway. One issue I’ve always had is that four year old Izuku speaks too clearly and uses too many big words. Yeah, four year olds aren’t stupid, nor are they incapable of producing thought provoking and clear sentences. But I’ve had three siblings all younger than me, and I’ve babysat a ton of other kids the same age. I can guarantee you that they are not that eloquent at four, and even if they know the definition of a long, complicated word – such as embezzlement – they won’t be able to pronounce it, and thus will use a longer definition with easier to pronounce words. Even child geniuses are bound by physical limitations – one reason why I have issues with anime that present child geniuses like Hatake Kakashi and Uchiha Itachi are. They’re my favorite characters, but them becoming full-fledged ninja at five/six, ANBU at 13, is just ridiculous. Therefore, the beginning of the chapter will have a slightly childish lilt to it, to better express Izuku's age.

Izuku could barely contain his excitement. Today was his fourth birthday and mommy was going take him to the quirk doctor to see what kind of quirk he was gonna get! He wondered what it could be, if it’d be like mommy’s, which was Attra...attra…she could pull stuff to her, which was so cool! He didn’t like daddy’s quirk, though. It was scary, especially when daddy got mad or came home smelling funny. He didn’t like it when that happened, because it made mommy sad.

“Izu-kun! It’s time to get going!” Izuku looked up to see his mommy standing at the doorway, smiling brightly.

“Yay!” he squealed and jumped into her arms, wriggling like an excited worm. “What do you think I’m gonna get? Attra-attra –”

“Attraction, sweetie.”

“Yeah! Attration! I wanna pull things just like you! Or maybe I could push things, orflingmyselfupwayhighorseeinthedarkorhave…” Izuku quieted down into an incomprehensible mumble, at which point his mommy laughed and poked him in the nose.

“Slow down Izu-kun, I can’t keep up! And no matter what quirk you get, you’ll always be my little hero.” With that, she hugged Izuku and buckled him up in the car. 

-

Izuku started at the doctor in shock. He….he wasn’t gonna get a quirk. The chances of it happening was so small that he said there would be no point in mapping his genome (whatever that was) to see what he might get. A tear trickled down his face. It wasn’t fair! He and Ka-chan were s’posed to become heroes together!

His mommy’s irate voice shocked him out of his misery. “How dare you tell me that my son, my _son,_ is worthless! Just because he probably won’t get a quirk places absolutely no value on his life!” She looked scary – like daddy, but not as mean. Her scary was comforting, protective. Daddy’s was just hot and angry.

The doctor tried to interrupt her, “Whether you like it or not miss –” but his mommy cut him off. She was so cool!

“No! I do not care what you think, _Doctor_ Tsubasa,” spitting out “Doctor” like it was a filthy word. “Come, Izu-kun. We’re going.”

Mommy grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the door. Before they could leave however, the doctor managed to get one final word in, and shattered Izuku’s heart.

“You’ll never become a hero!”

-

_You’ll never become a hero_

_Never become a hero_

_Never…._

-

Izuku stared at his mommy, sobbing and hiccupping. “Mommy, why did he say that? I can become a hero, right? I can save everyone with a smile, just like All Might does! Right mommy? I can be…” he trailed off as his mommy started to cry.

“I’m sorry Izuku! I’m so sorry…”

More tears welled up in his eyes. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear….what he _needed._ He. He _wasn’t_ worthless. He could be a hero! He could!

Right?

-

Ka-chan changed after that. He wasn’t _Ka-chan_ anymore. Slowly, Izuku found himself staring at a stranger wearing the face of someone he once called brother. He didn’t blame Ka-. Katsuki though. He wasn’t Ka-chan, but he was still Katsuki. And Katsuki didn’t know better. The teachers praised him, ignored the bruises and burns. It wasn’t right…but Katsuki didn’t know better. He didn’t. He didn’t…he couldn’t do it if he knew it was wrong…he wouldn’t.

-

Mommy is now mom, Izuku decided. Mommy was too childish, and he needed to grow up to help her. She thought that she had hid the stress, the worry from him, but Izuku could see just how much she was struggling. No one wanted to hire the mother of a quirkless freak of nature. So he decided that he would pick up around the house, and stop begging for hero stuff. He didn’t need it, and it was expensive.

Slowly, picking up became doing the laundry and the dishes. That became vacuuming and scrubbing counters. And then he started the cooking and grocery shopping. With fewer chores at home, Inko began to work more. She wasn’t there to help him with his homework, clean his scrapes from school, or sooth his tears and burns. It hurt, but Izuku knew it was necessary. They didn’t have enough food to begin with. Besides, she would still cook dinner on the weekends! At least, whenever she was available.

Years passed like that, with Izuku and Inko only seeing each other in passing. Neither liked it, but they had an unspoken agreement that whenever there was time, it would be spent together.

Izuku’s tenth birthday came and went. At around that time his stomach started to hurt. At first, he thought it was just bad food, but weeks went by and nothing changed. They didn’t have enough money for the hospital, if they would even treat him, so he kept quiet. It really hurt though. Food stopped being appetizing, the smell first fading away to nothing, then coming back as rancid. Anything he ate hurt his stomach so bad, he had to throw it back up within an hour or so. It wasn’t too bad though. By avoiding eating, there was more for mom to eat. He couldn’t see this as a bad thing, his own worthlessness having been beaten into him years ago, so he still didn’t say anything.

He was still so, so hungry. Izuku withered away, slowly, so slowly, like flower in a winter storm. Hunger _gnawed_ at him, but he couldn’t eat. Days had passed, and he still couldn’t eat. Izuku could feel himself getting weaker by the day, and it scared him. Still, he pushed on, ignoring the every present **_hunger_** _._

Four more days passed and Izuku was starting to get concerned looks from strangers who didn’t know he wasn’t worth it. Most notable had been a scraggly man in black – he’d even offered to buy him food! He’d had to decline, but that little act of kindness had endeared the man – Eraserhead, he later discovered – to him. Plus, he fought mostly quirkless! Maybe he could still become a hero, and then he’d be worth something.

Izuku stumbled, and looked around. Being so lost in thought, he’d wandered into an area he didn’t know. It was dark, and he was so, so cold. Why was he so cold? A murmuring came to him, and he turned around to see a worried man asking him something. Izuku concentrated, but he couldn’t hear anything over the rushing in his ears, and his vision was going blurry. He stumbled again, and the last thing he saw before his vision faded to black was the man’s white hair.

\- 

Izuku woke up warm for the first time in months. Confused, mouth dry, and more than slightly terrified, he sat up and tried to figure out where he was. He didn’t recognize anything! His breathing sped up and his hands became clammy, but before he could work himself into an anxiety attack, a man with white hair walked into the room. Wait…white hair? That was the man from earlier! Why was he here? What did he want? Why did he take him to what he presumed was his home?

“Kid. Calm down.” Oh. He said all of that out loud didn’t he? “Yep, you did squirt. I brought you here because I didn’t know your name and we need to talk.” Talk? Why did they need to talk?

The man sat down next to his bed and looked at him solemnly, “Look. I have had a lot of experience with the medical world, and I can tell you that you are severely underweight for a normal human. I don’t know what you’re going through, but not eating or throwing it back up – don’t think I didn’t notice the calluses on your right hand and scaring on the back of your throat – will kill you. If you keep this up, you’ll likely be hospitalized or –“

“But I _can’t_ eat! I’ve tried! It tastes and smells horrible, like sewage, and I _have_ to throw it up!” Izuku didn’t mean to interrupt, he really didn’t, but the knowledge that he could be hospitalized for this panicked him. They didn’t have money for extended stay or therapy.

At this, the man looked at him sharply. “You sure?”

Izuku nodded solemnly. He wouldn’t lie about something like that.

The man (he really needed to figure out his name) ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m going to give you a scenario, and I don’t want you to interrupt. At the end, you’re going to tell me if it matches up with what you’re going through or not. Okay?”

Izuku stared at him for a moment, and slowly agreed.

“Okay. You’re four years old and have recently been declared quirkless. The chances of you manifesting a quirk are so small they don’t want to bother testing you. Because of this, your parents, or parent, has to work extra-long because pay is small for a parent of a quirkless child. Your stomach starts to hurt. Not often, not very much, but enough to be annoying. Over time, the stomach aches become more consistent, lasting longer, becoming more painful. Then your sense of smell starts to disappear, until everything looks and tastes bland. The bland food is okay. It’s not enjoyable, but you can tolerate it. Eventually, you start wondering if your food is bad. It tastes slightly off. Rancid. This continues until you’d rather starve than eat sewage, but you force yourself to anyway because you’re so, so hungry. You have to throw up though, because your stomach hurts so bad. The hunger is still there, ever present. You’re **_hungry._** ” He finished, and waited expectantly.

Izuku’s eyes filled. How did he know? Tears started running down his face and the man’s shoulders slumped. Faintly, he heard “Dammit. I was hoping…” 

Hands grasped his upper arms and Izuku looked up at the man’s face. He was sad, and had a caustic, bitter smile on his face. “Well, Izuku, I know what’s going on. It’s your quirk coming in. And before you ask…” his lips quirked “I went through the exact same thing. My name is Kaneki, and before today I was the last person with an active Ghoul quirk.”


	2. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oookay. So. I didn’t know my parents would be instituting a no computer rule for Winter Break, which is why I’ve been MIA, along with my depression getting the better of me for a while. I’m really sorry. I did work on it in a notebook, though, so I at least kept planning. I’ve altered some things from the original plotline. First is that Izuku meets AM at 12, not 14. Also, though not explicitly stated, there’s no Sludge Villain (though, really, until he tried to take over Izuku in the manga/anime, he was more a Sludge Criminal). The meeting reason I haven’t decided on, but cause it’s just referenced, I’ll wait until I have to to solidify why they met. Assume it was a generic villain attack. The Sludge Villain was too…hm…reporter-y, I guess. It was loud. Finally, in this fic AM was close to a weak quirked/quirkless (lied on registry with minor intelligence enhancement)/non-quirk using hero (which of the three is so far undetermined) that had recently died in a hero fight. You’ll see why that’s important later in the chapter, and in the story.
> 
> On the plus side, I was able to snag a dvd player and watch BNHA during the night, and boy have I missed stuff. It’s been ages since I’ve seen the first season of BNHA and…well…I forgot about the Mall Scene™ and Kamino. Because I’ve got stuff planned out…Kamino isn’t going to be the Dorm Jump-starter. Question: would you prefer Izuku to befriend Shiggy, or should I make him irrevocably evil? Same, I guess, with Toga and Dabi? They’re some of my favorite villains, so redemption arcs are amazing, but I’m not sure it would fit with the story. If you guys vote on the first option, then it won’t be Shiggy that traumatizes Izuku at the mall, but if so it’ll be totally awesome. I have both planned out. Let me know in the comments below. (Geeze. You sound like a Youtuber. Thanks Joe. My name is not Joe! Sure. Joe. Arrgg!)  
> Side note: I’m removing the plotline for new readers. Spoilers and questions will remain for another 8 chapters, and then they’ll be taken out too.  
> Here you go, my wonderful readers. I tried to make it extra-long, just for you guys. I actually managed to reach over 2000 words! It’s my longest chapter yet. It’s less than a hundred words away from 3000, so my goal will be to get the next chapter – which should come out in two weeks or so – a little over 3000. We’ll see if I make it!

The last four years had been difficult. Meeting Kaneki was a stroke of luck – apparently, if they hadn’t met, he would have spiraled into a feeding frenzy and murdered hundreds of people to satiate the Hunger within that week. Even so, it wasn’t easy. Izuku still had to hide everything from his mom; it terrified him that she might discover he was a monster. At least she’d been able to get off work a bit earlier – there was a scare when she’d noticed that he wasn’t eating his food, so he made sure to eat a small meal morning and evening. And so, the last four years had passed like a mantra: wake up, drink the ambrosia of the gods (which he had discovered at the tender age of twelve), eat breakfast (with mom if he was lucky), throw up, go to school, eat lunch (he was being watched), throw up, cut, go home, homework, analysis, cut, eat dinner, throw up, cut, and either do more analysis or lay in bed staring at the ceiling all night until he fell asleep at six. Once a week he’d meet up with Kaneki, who would force him to eat….

Izuku shuddered. He hated thinking about what, exactly, he had to eat. Each time he ate the raw, bloody flesh slid down his throat like slimy, clumpy sand, leaving a nauseatingly warm aftertaste. No matter how many times he brushed his teeth, it never left, and he could never throw it up after he swallowed. Kaneki had told him after the first time that it was a biological defense mechanism, to prevent newborn Ghouls from throwing up the first few years. He hated it. It forced him to eat –

Nope. Not going there. Izuku shook his head. So long as he didn’t think too much about it, life wasn’t horrible. Bakago was a twat in his own special way, but he was easy to ignore. The food thing sucked, but he was ignoring that. The most difficult thing was the future – how would he continue to hide his _freakishness_? He fully planned on going to U.A. and becoming a hero, which made it exponentially more difficult to hide. They had finally lifted the Quirkless ban on the Hero Course three years ago! So far, no one had tried out for the Hero Course, but Principle Nezu had made a statement on the news that no discrimination would be allowed, and that Quirkless students would be scored the same as Quirked – potential, physical ability, and personal safety would not be skewed in favor of Quirked applicants. Nezu was officially his second favorite hero – right after Eraserhead.

Izuku sighed. All Might was no longer his favorite hero, not after a rather difficult meeting with him. It wasn’t All Might’s fault, though. The man was in pain – he could tell after so long of hiding himself – and distracted; not to mention, when he’d asked if he could be a Quirkless hero (he did _not_ ask if a Quirkless person could be a hero – he wasn’t actually Quirkless by today’s standards, even if the registry and his pinky-toe joint said he was, so he wasn’t going to lie), he could _smell_ the ache and sorrow emanating off the hero. Obviously, he’d just lost someone with either a weak Quirk, none at all, or had gone into heroics without using it, and had died. So, All Might telling him to be more realistic was completely understandable. Additionally, although he was strong, Izuku had almost no fat or visible muscle, and he was _tiny_ – he’d barely topped 4’8 at the time (he grew an inch and a half since then, but that was still really short) _._ He looked pathetic, and without knowing him, and that he wasn’t referring to Aboveground Heroics, All Might couldn’t tell him “yes” in good conscience – plus, Izuku _knew_ he’d die in an Aboveground Hero fight. So, no, Izuku did not blame All Might in anyway, nor was he mad, but he no longer saw him as the paragon of “Hero.” It was probably a good thing anyway. Emulating a man like All Might when he’d never survive was incredibly foolish.

Izuku’s phone dinged. Looking down, he saw it was Kaneki; he wanted to meet up after school. Because Izuku was determined to act normally, he had to eat twice the amount of food a growing Ghoul needed – and _that_ was already twice the amount a full-grown Ghoul ate. In essence, Izuku had to eat six times the amount a normal Ghoul ate, and that was all because eating human food, even if he threw it up no longer than two hours later, sapped nutrients from his body like water ran through large grain sand. This mean that he needed to eat 84 ounces (about 5 pounds) of… _it_ …a week, instead of about 42 ounces a week for a growing ghoul, maybe a bit more if one were to eat for the sake of eating, rather than needing to(1).

Three months after he’d met Kaneki, Izuku had found out that his skin was unnaturally rubber like – similar to Lu in that old anime O Pice. The names didn’t really make sense, but historians had only managed to retrieve a couple of corrupted episodes. Most of the speech was crackly **(a.n. like those radio calls in war movies),** and the few with subtitles were too grainy to really understand the text. When Bakugo and his cronies had hit him really hard once, and his head banged against the wall, all Izuku had gotten were a couple of bruises. It was like his skin refused to rip or tear. It could still be melted (Bakugo’s explosions) and cut (he’d tested that out at home, on his thigh), and it didn’t prevent internal injuries. If one put enough external force on his skin, Izuku theorized that instead of it ripping or tearing the way it should, his skin would _crack._ It was like cement; unless an object struck it at a weak point, cement could handle extreme force, but once that force exceeded the cement’s limit, it would crack and break apart. Unfortunately, while this granted Izuku temporary protection against bleed out, once his skin did separate his wounds would be significantly more dangerous.

Because this mutation was so obvious, Izuku had immediately gone to the Registration office to alert them that he might have a resistance quirk, but they denied him immediately. The most the officials had allowed him to do without a doctor’s note or his parent’s presence was change his Registration from “Quirkless” to “Functionally Quirkless.” In political and medical lingo, this meant that there was minor evidence to the contrary, but not enough to sufficiently prove a Quirk. This usually occurred when a Quirkless child was incredibly smart – smart enough that a parent _could_ argue that it was a Quirk, if they cared enough.

Shouts and screeching filled the air, and when Izuku looked up, he saw that there was _another_ “villain” making a ruckus. The person in mind wasn’t even an actual villain, he was just a petty thief who decided to throw a temper-tantrum. Throwing his head back, Izuku moaned in self-pity. Villain attacks had become significantly more common in the last year or so – he theorized it was because of a multitude of things, but one of the biggest reasons, he believed, was that heroes weren’t actually doing much to prevent the creation of villains. Heroes like Death Arms, Mt. Lady, and Backdraft often drew out fights because the more publicity they got, and the more obvious that “the heroes are doing something,” the more they got paid. His second theory was that All Might’s decline in media presence was making villains bolder. He wasn’t surprised; a lot of people forgot that All Might was just a man. He could still get injured, and he was not immortal – he had to retire at some point. It wasn’t logical, but then again, most people weren’t.

Shaking his head, Izuku turned around and walked the other way. He knew a short-cut to get to school, but he didn’t like taking it because there were a lot of secluded corners. Call him paranoid, but he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that a lot of the Quirkless people who didn’t kill themselves were kidnapped, and then either sold into fighting rings, as slaves, experimented on, or became sexual playthings. The last was especially true for women and young children, both of which Izuku had the misfortune of looking like. With his white streaked hair (partly because of his Ghoul Quirk, partly because of head trauma) almost reaching his hips, small stature, slightly curvy hips, and doe like eyes, a lot of people mistook him for a young girl of about 8 or 10, not his stately 14. It didn’t help that Izuku steadfastly refused to cut his hair – it was one of the few connectors he still had with his mom. His facial features, voice, and thin build (though not height) were all Hisashi, who had left mom when he was seven. Eventually, his hair color too would match.

Izuku hurried along the way, impatient to get out of the last alley way to school. Then, hell on earth would begin.

-

Okay. I’ve been trying to write the teacher part. It will _not_ come out, no matter what I try. So just imagine the anime, and we’ll skip to The Scene.

-

Izuku stared as Bakugo ripped his notebook out of his hands, three of his “friends” flanking him. He couldn’t do anything about it, though. If he actually tried to take it back, he could accidentally hurt Bakugo because he was much stronger than he actually looked – denser muscles and bones definitely helped with that. To make matters worse, even if he _didn’t_ hurt Bakugo, he’d be blamed, and would definitely get a mark on his record. He couldn’t risk it now, not when he’d had three years of mostly clean records. U.A. couldn’t refuse someone with a couple of detentions and fight marks, but they would be extremely hesitant to take someone with a bullying record. That’s why he never fought back in any way. They could blame it all on him, but they couldn’t actually mark him with bullying unless he hit back or retorted. It left him with hundreds of scars, bruises, and broken bones, but at least when he got into U.A. in either the Hero, Support, or Gen. Ed. courses, he would be able to fight back and have people actually listen to him. 

One of Bakugo’s friends looked at the cover of his notebook and snorted. “Quirk Analysis for the Future? Seriously? You _still_ think that a pathetic, useless, _Quirkless_ freak of nature could ever become someone, especially a hero?”

The four all burst out laughing, and Bakugo looked at him, then his notebook. With a smirk, Bakugo pressed it between both hands and “ ** _BOOM._** ” He let off a minor explosion, which greatly damaged the cover, and burnt most of the page corners. Then, before Izuku could stop him (not that he’d be able to), he threw it out the window.

With an almost inaudible gasp, Izuku ran to the window. Although he was no longer the cry-baby he once was, it still hurt to see his dreams and thoughts treated like garbage. Not like it was new though. He turned to look at Bakugo, face blank, because he just knew that this wasn’t over, and if he ignored the twat, it’d be even worse.

“You know, I think I know of a way for you get a quirk. Why don’t you hope for a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof!” He and his cronies laughed it up, and then left, the door swinging shut like a prison sentence.

… _Nope._ It couldn’t get worse than that. What an _idiot._ His right arm burned, and when Izuku looked down, he noticed that his cuff was staining red. Just great. On top of Bakugo suicide baiting him, he’d reopened the cuts from last night on his arm. He rolled his cuff up and pulled the black jacket further down. It would have to wait until he got home – hopefully, no one would notice.

Izuku rushed down the stairs and contemplated leaving his notebook in the water – the fish at least seemed to like it. He shook his head; even if the book was ruined, someone could use a reversal Quirk on it, and could potentially gain dangerous information on pro heroes. Luckily, he’d only just started on this notebook, so there were only about 3 pros, 5 random people, and 8 villains, but still. That added up to 16 people they could target. So, he gently pulled it away, and placed it in his backpack. Hopefully the way home would be clear by now.

-

You’ve _got_ to be kidding me. Izuku stared at the wreckage of his street in dismay. With the amount of caution tape and police officers, there was absolutely no way he’d be able to get home that way, and unfortunately there was no other way home.

Izuku sighed and straightened his shoulders. Nothing to do about it; he’d have to ask just how long repairs would take. If he absolutely had to, he’d wait until dark and slip by, but he’d rather not. Mind made up, Izuku walked over to one of the officers, who had just finished talking to one of the citizens. He was plain, not all that notable, although…he wasn’t an officer, but a _detective._ Why on earth was a detective _here_? Izuku shook his head mentally. It wasn’t his problem.

“Sir?” Izuku asked, and it came out way more monotone than he’d intended.

The man turned around, and for some strange reason his eyes widened a bit, before he frowned. “Yes, little one?”

Izuku growled in his head, but he didn’t blame the guy. “Do you know how long the repairs are going to take? I live about three streets down that way, and it’s the only street I can take home.”

The man – Tsukauchi, going by his name tag – gave him a concerned look. “It’s going to take at least a couple days. One of the villains hit a pipe and the repair-workers have to contact the city officials before they can shut off the supply of whatever it was transferring. Might I ask why you are out alone? It’s far too dangerous for a young girl like you to be wandering without your parents.”

Izuku sighed. Despite his expressionless facial features and obvious eyebags, people still assumed he was a young girl even when talking to him directly. “Sir – Detective Tsukauchi. Despite my rather…short stature, and feminine appearance, you got two things wrong with that observation. The first is that I am a girl. I must inform you that I am biologically a boy, and so far, identify as one. The second is that I am under the age of 10. If you must know, I am 14. Yes, I know. I’m incredibly short. Not my fault that everyone makes illogical assumptions based only on physical appearance. If you’d bothered to pay attention, I am wearing a black, _middle school_ uniform, I currently have a well-loved backpack, my fingers are ink stained – a common occurrence among those who write a lot, and I have obvious eyebags, something that is not seen often in those younger than a teenager due to the consistent sleep deprivation needed to obtain them.”

The blond man behind Detective Tsukauchi snorted. “Looks like you found a mini-Zawa, Detective.” He turned his attention to Izuku and waved his hand at him. “Nice to meet you, young man! My name is –“

Izuku interrupted him. “Pardon, I’m not trying to be rude. However, unless you want me to know the name of your civilian identity, Mr. Presentation Michael, I’d suggest you not finish that sentence. Both you and your school friends – Underground Hero Eraserhead and Aboveground Hero Midnight – have made a concerted effort in keeping your civilian status private.”

The two blinked at him, and the blond man raised his hand, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, aren’t you a smart cookie. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who recognized me out of costume.”

“Well, that’s because a lot of civilians don’t consider that you actually have a life outside of Mr. M. It’s illogical, because of course everyone has a public and private life.” Izuku turned around, and waved goodbye. “It was interesting talking with you. Have a nice day.”

-POV Switch to Yamada

“Just who _was_ that Detective? It was like looking at a very small, feminine, green and white haired, Aizawa.”

“I have no clue, Hizashi. If you meet him again, keep an eye on him.” Tsukauchi muttered to his long time friend.

Hizashi looked at him quizzically. “Why is that, Tsuki?”

He sighed, and looked at his friend solemnly. “Did you see his right arm?” When Hizashi shook his head, he continued. “His cuff was rolled up, and his black jacket was pulled further down. If both were like that, I’d assume it was him trying to be different with his school uniform. However, his other sleeve was just like it’s supposed to be. Furthermore, his jacket looked a tiny bit damp. Again, this normally wouldn’t be cause for concern, but when he waved goodbye, I noticed part of his cuff sticking out.”

He frowned, and looked at Tsukauchi. “Why is that important?”

“Because, Hizashi, it was red.”

Hizashi’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Oh is right. If it’s not too much trouble, could you ask Aizawa to keep an eye out for any jumpers for the next few months?”

Sighing, Hizashi nodded morosely. “I’ll do the same.”

“Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Was it any good? Please, tell me in the reviews! Also, if anyone has tips on writing Hizashi, please, let me know. I connect with Aizawa on a spiritual level, so writing someone as goofy and happy as Hizashi is really hard for me. 
> 
> Fun Fact: All Might terrifies me. I know a lot of people write Gang Orca as the one who everyone is scared of, even though he’s a softie, based on his physical attributes, but quite frankly, I’d hide behind him to get away from All Might. I love his potential as a character, but when I see him on screen I want to run away and hide. 
> 
> (1). So, I did some research. Apparently, a ghoul can be happy with one body for 1-2 months. A human body has, on average, 75 pounds of edible meat on them. Bones don’t count, nor does hair. I’m going to play with cannon here and say that a Ghoul would eat about 21 ounces a week, half that if they stretch it to 2 months, which goes to 10.5 ounces. Most humans eat about 64 ounces, or 4 pounds, a day, so this supports my theory that Ghouls are fundamentally different in their digestive system (and not just they can’t eat human food) – the way they metabolize the food they digest is completely different. Anyway. This would mean that a growing Ghoul (something I made up for the sake of this story, along with the human food sapping nutrients thing) would eat about 42 ounces a week, or 2.6 pounds. Therefore, Izuku has to eat about 85 ounces, or 5.3 pounds, a week. This still supports my theory, because if you read closely, humans eat 4 pounds a day. Izuku is reaching just over 5 pounds a week, and that’s because he’s eating twice the amount a Ghoul his age would be eating.


	3. Yamazawa Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short interlude staring the Yamazawa family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while I was planning on having this be the training and Entrance Exam chapter, I've been unable to write much. So I compromised and wrote this shorter, fluffy/angsty chapter instead of stressing about a much longer one.

Shouta sat at the dinner table, papers everywhere, most of them bleeding red. Oh, how he wished he had no papers to grade, but Nezu had “requested” he co-teach 3-A because he had no 1-A. Sigh.

“Dad?” Shouta looked up to see his adopted son Hitoshi standing in the doorway, looking concerned. “Pops is late – he was supposed to have been home almost an hour ago. Did he let you know he would be delayed?”

Looking at the clock, he saw that Hitoshi was right. Shouta frowned and replied, “No, he didn’t. I’ll call him now –”

The opening of the door cut him off and both Shouta and Hitoshi quickly headed towards the door. They sighed in relief when they saw Hizashi toeing off his shoes and hanging up his coat. He looked up and smiled softly, “Heya Shou, Toshi. Sorry I’m late, Detective Tsukauchi wanted to talk with me a bit longer.”

“It’s fine Pops, I just got worried when you didn’t warn us.” Hitoshi replied, and gave him a tight hug. “I’m gonna head back up to my room – you want to talk to Dad about something private. Don’t pretend otherwise,” and before the two could interject, he wandered back up the stairs.

Hizashi rubbed his neck and muttered, “He did have a point.” They headed to the kitchen, where Hizashi immediately went for the teapot and cabinet.

Shouta frowned again when he noticed which tea Hizashi was getting out. “Okay, what’s wrong? You only get your special tea out when you’re really upset.” He sat down at the table and waited for Hizashi to respond.

Shoulders slumped, he turned around and said, “While I was talking with Tsukauchi, I had the opportunity to meet a most intriguing young man.” Shouta cocked an eyebrow, encouraging him on. Hizashi huffed a laugh and continued. “You wouldn’t think he was a young adult, or male for that matter. He was _tiny,_ five foot flat if I’m being generous, and nothing but skin and bones. His eyebags were worse than yours and Toshi’s combined, and considering he’s only fourteen, it’s extremely _fucking_ concerning. Tsukauchi wants you to watch out for jumpers in the next few months; he thinks the kid is cutting. Considering he caught glimpse of a fully stained sleeve, I’m concerned too. If that kid is that thin, cutting, and sleep deprived, I don’t want to think about how bad his home life might be.” He rubbed his eyes and looked at Shouta plaintively. “I really don’t want the kid to die. He knew who I was in civilian attire, that I went to school with Midnight and you – which is something we made a concerted effort not to allow citizens to know.”

Shouta got up and pulled Hizashi into a hug. He rubbed his hands up and down his back soothingly while Hizashi sniffled a bit and clutched onto his shirt. Shouta heard Hizashi croaking out, “He’s _so small._ So small,” and eventually just started to cry while he stood there, holding his husband. He understood why Hizashi was so upset; he’d come home almost exactly like this after he’d first met Hitoshi.

He bent his head down and kissed Hizashi’s head, murmuring, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye out for him. And if he needs help…we _were_ considering getting Hitoshi a sibling. I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon, but I’m open to it so long as the two boys are.” Hizashi lifted his head up and a wobbly, hopeful smile spread across his face.

“Thank you Shou.”

“Love you too.”


End file.
